Redemption
by Sereq ieh Dashret
Summary: The punishment for his crimes has left Phobos a broken man. Elyon, however, cannot just let him die of despair. Can the Light of Meridian help the fallen Prince find redemption and peace? At what price?  AU Will be P/E in later chapters. Rating may change
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except the OCs. Elyon's surrogate mother and natural mother have been arbitrarily renamed because I couldn't remember their actual names.**

This fic was partially inspired by "the Doll of Meridian" by Citadel, but draws heavily on concepts taken from "The Wheel of Time" by Robert Jordan.  
>I've never seen the cartoon, so this fic is based solely on the W.I.T.C.H comic.<p>

I was always puzzled by the reasons why Phobos couldn't reign to begin with and why should he have to draw power from the environment while every other magic user in the series obviously did not. This is the explanation I have come up with.  
>AU in that Phobos doesn't get imprisoned in Kandrakar at the end of the first series.<p>

Will be P/E and will contain lemons, attempted suicide and deaths in later chapters. Rating will rise accordingly.

Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.

Enjoy!

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><p>When they brought her brother back from Kandrakar, he was no more than a shadow of his former self. Clad only in a pair of roughspun breeches and barefoot, he was paraded in chains through the main thoroughfare from the city gates to the palace, while the populace pelted him with insults and rotten vegetables. Elyon had sternly opposed this proposition, but the rebels wanted their triumph and the situation was still tense. She had to dismiss almost all her police forces for being too compromised with her brother's regime and the new recruits were young and unblooded and most of them had been in the rebellion. She could not risk a tumult in those conditions, so she had to consent, on the condition that no harm should befall her brother, to which Caleb and Vathek readily gave their word.<br>Throughout the whole ordeal, Phobos never reacted; he kept walking and staring ahead with his head held high, while the people shouted abuse (assassin, tyrant and monster were the kindest epithets) and even when a half-brick grazed his head, making blood run on his face from a scalp wound.  
>At the end of the parade, he was brought in front of her throne and forced none too gently to kneel before her. Elyon could not repress a sentiment of pity towards him, who used to be so haughty and had been brought so low. He always used to be slim, but now he was gaunt and there were dark shadows under his eyes, his glorious long ash-blond hair had been all but shorn and his ginger beard had grown long and unkempt, but the worst thing was the look in his eyes: defeat, sadness and desperation. A terrible realization dawned on the Queen, hitting her like a physical blow to the stomach: her brother had been broken, possibly beyond repair. All around her, people were cheering, rejoicing in the humiliation of the tyrant, but Elyon could only see his pain and didn't have the heart to smile.<p>

On that first day, most of the time had been occupied by state affairs and it was only later in the evening that she found time to visit her brother's cell. Unnoticed by her counsellors, Elyon slipped into the gaol and silently approached the cell in which her brother had been placed. It was damp and cold down there and dark. It was nothing more than he deserved, whispered a small voice in her head. It was terrible and bleak, said another.  
>Her slippered footsteps didn't make any noise on the rough flagstones, so she could hear very clearly someone sobbing. It took her a moment to realise that it was her brother. Phobos was curled in a corner of his cell, his arms locked around his drawn-up knees, rocking backwards and forwards and crying silently. He looked in so much pain and grief, that Elyon couldn't bring herself to stand there a minute longer and ran away towards the safety of the upper halls of her palace. She couldn't begin to imagine why he was reacting like that: he was in a cell, that much was true, but she ensured that he was treated humanely and no harm was given him.<br>Try as she might to dissimulate it, her surrogate mother, now an officer in her personal guard, readily detected her internal turmoil.  
>"What does disturb you so, Your Grace?" she asked at lunchtime the next day, after she had held court almost all morning. Elyon couldn't ask any better than someone to confide into and Adhara had been her mother for sixteen long years, it could do her no harm to speak with her.<br>"Elyon, call me Elyon. You were my mother." she said. After barely two months of reign, she had almost forgotten how it felt to be called by her name. Your Grace here, Your Majesty there, even Caleb.  
>"Elaena Escanor was your mother, I was merely a protector, Elyon." the warrior retorted.<br>Elyion nodded, but only to appease her. She knew her real mother only by a painting and Adhara's words and she had not the foggiest idea about her father (maybe she should ask Phobos, later), she could not be emotionally attached to them. Her only family had always been Adhara and her husband.  
>"I am worried about my brother." she confessed, somewhat abashedly.<br>Adhara waved a hand in the air dismissively. "There is nothing to worry about, Elyon. He cannot harm you anymore, he has been rendered innocuous."  
>"I am not worried about me, Adhara, I am worried about him. – she retorted - He is… broken. All the fight has gone out of him. He was crying, last night. Did they harm him in Kandrakar?"<br>"They severed him, finally, that is all. This always happens to those who are severed." she explained neutrally.  
>"Severed?" Elyon asked, horrified. It sounded painful and horrible.<br>"They separated him from his magic. – Adhara explained – I should have told you before, when you were younger…" she added, when Elyon stared at her uncomprehending.  
>The warrior sighed and seated herself near Elyon. "Male sorcerers are evil, Elyon, they will use their magic to do evil things, if left alone." she started.<br>"But Caleb uses magic and is not evil." Elyon objected.  
>"Caleb is an elementalist, he calls upon the assistance of one of the elements and uses its energy for specific tasks. Sorcerers can mould energy and create things, they can ply the matter to their will. It is different." Adhara explained.<br>"Then I am a sorcerer too. Why am I not evil?" Elyon objected again. The whole thing didn't make any sense to her and sounded like superstition and prejudice.  
>"Because you are a woman. – Adhara responded – Women are allowed to create and to mould, men aren't. It is sacrilegious, blasphemous. Sorcerers need to be stopped and the only way to prevent them to do evil is to separate them from the source of evil, their magic."<br>Elyon looked at her surrogate mother, flabbergasted.  
>"Some of them go on with life without too many problems, especially if they are caught and severed early, but most… They do not seem to be able to live without what makes them evil." Adhara continued, quite oblivious to Elyon's distress.<br>"What happens to them?" the queen asked.  
>"They let themselves die, rather than live redeemed, Elyon, and I'm afraid this is what's happening with the Usurper." concluded Adhara, with a faint sigh.<br>"If only your mother had done it when it was time, but no, she wanted to try something less traumatic, and let him keep part of his magic. – she added, sadly and a bit bitterly – Your mother was very kind and merciful, but, in this case, it was misplaced. If she had severed your brother when he was young, he might have survived and she would still be alive."  
>Elyon was breathless with mingled horror and astonishment "H-How?" she asked.<br>"Oh, Elyon, I am so sorry, I should have told you, but I didn't think you were ready for it. – she said, tears gathering in her eyes - Your brother killed her not long after you were born."

Elyon stormed into the gaol like a whirlwind and demanded to be shown the prisoner. The cell door was thrown open and a couple of guards entered, iron clanged and the guards left. "It is safe, now, Your Majesty." one of the guards said.  
>"Leave me alone with him." she ordered curtly. The guard bowed. "As you command, Your Majesty." and the whole troop withdrew, leaving her alone in the corridor. Elyon breathed deeply and steeled herself and then she entered her brother's cell.<br>Phobos was still sitting into a corner of the cell, but this time his wrists were chained to the wall. He looked even worse for wear than the day before, bruises spreading on his arms and torso. The guards had told her that he had tried to break free when they first put him in irons. The look in his eyes was hollow and haunted, but he put on a show of haughtiness and defiance. Even Elyon, naïve as she was, understood that it was just pretence. "Elyon, what do I owe the honour to?" he drawled and he almost sounded like his old self, except that he didn't and for some reason her rage deflated, until it was just a dull pain.  
>"Why did you kill our mother?" she asked in a whisper.<br>Phobos stared at her, uncomprehending. "I did what?" he breathed. "Who told you this, that hysterical bitch, Adhara?" he added, anger surfacing through the dejection.  
>Elyon didn't exactly know what happened, only that her mind clouded with rage again and when her mind cleared, her hand hurt and his brother's cheek was red and swollen.<br>Phobos shook his head, as if to clear it, as if her blow had been strong enough to make him reel. Elyon gasped in horror at what she had done. She had never hurt anyone before.  
>"I didn't kill her, Elyon, even if I would have had the right to do it, for what she had put me through. – Phobos said slowly and angrily, his blue-grey eyes boring into her – I merely imprisoned her and not even in one of these dark cells. I kept her in one of the guest suites in the east wing, treated her as humanely as possible, but she caught the plague and I couldn't do anything about it. Half of Meridian was infected, more than twenty thousand people died, including her. Even you almost died. I couldn't save her. Nobody could, but it is easier to blame the evil sorcerer, isn't it?" he asked, bitterly.<br>"I- I didn't know." Elyon stammered.  
>"I wouldn't expect so. Adhara kidnapped you shortly afterwards, you were too young to remember and I wouldn't suppose she had told you anything but her prejudiced point of view. Why, I am surprised she hadn't told you that I had summoned the plague." he said with a sad smile.<br>"You didn't, did you?" she asked timidly.  
>Phobos shook his head. "Such a thing would be impossible, but her faction spread the word nonetheless."<br>Elyon blinked, uncomprehending. "But why?" she asked.  
>Phobos smiled again and his smile made her feel bad, so bad that she wanted to crawl somewhere dark and hide. "Because I am evil, I was always evil, even when I was not, Elyon. I am a male magic user, there is no need for any other reason in her mind."<br>"But you conspired against our mother and imprisoned her! – she replied, unwilling to let him tarnish Adhara's character notwithstanding her own perplexities at her reasoning – You were a tyrant to the people of Meridian, you were evil, do not deny it!"  
>"That was just politics, Elyon, one day you will understand. – he explained – There was a more progressive faction in the court, one that didn't give a damn about traditions and the gender of the ruler as long as their policies suited them and I rewarded them after they helped me overthrow our mother, do ut des. It could have ended like this, but the traditionalist faction didn't let it go. They rebelled, they plotted, they scaled up the violence, tried to kill me, almost managed it a couple of times and I responded. It is the way of things." he concluded cynically.<br>"I bet Adhara never told you what happened to our father…" he continued, seeing that Elyon remained silent.  
>Elyon shook her head. "She never mentioned him." she admitted.<br>"I would have imagined it. – he confirmed – He was called Cathair and he was a knight of the Royal Guard. Mother liked him well enough to keep him even after he had impregnated her with a useless male child, contrary to tradition. He had a small latent magical talent but he could hide it well, but unfortunately for him, mine was much greater and I didn't manage to hide it. I was eleven and hadn't done anything more evil that brawling with other squires, when my mother discovered it and tried to "cure" me from evil. – he continued sombrely, never breaking eye contact with her – Adhara insisted that I should be severed, but my mother thought it would be too cruel and just crippled the part of me that used magic, punching a hole in it so that the power would disperse and I would never be able to do anything more dangerous than conjure a bit of sparkles." His tone was disturbingly matter-of-fact, but his eyes were full of pain and Elyon instinctively cringed. How could their mother be so cruel?  
>"It hurt so much, Elyon, and I couldn't understand why she had done it, what had I done wrong. I had just been playing and afterwards I hurt inside and all my friends eschewed me, because I was evil." he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.<br>"But it didn't work, right? You were almost as powerful as me." Elyon said, trying to sound cheerful even if she was about to cry. She had believed that her family was a happy one, that Phobos had been the cause of every bad thing that happened, that he had no excuses, but it seemed that the truth was very far from it.  
>Phobos made a sound low in his throat that could have been constructed as a laugh. "It worked very well, instead, sister. Why do you think I had to absorb magic from the outside? Without it, I would have been powerless."<br>So it had not just been greed and selfishness, but rather a desperate attempt to heal, to be normal. Elyon had to steel herself further to refrain from comforting him.  
>"Anyway, - he continued – after this, Adhara grew suspicious of our father and tried to convince Mother that he was to blame for my curse, but Mother wouldn't heed her. It took her years to get her perfect occasion and demonstrate that he was cursed as well and, by that time, Mother was already expecting you. – He paused a bit, lost in the memory – In the face of evidence, even lust was not enough to stay her hand and she and Adhara severed him, even if he had never done anything evil at all, even if he had always protected his Queen, as his duty demanded and more, even if he loved her. They broke him and sent him away, confined him to a distant guard tower, so that Mother wouldn't have to behold him any longer. He lasted two months before throwing himself down the parapet."<br>Phobos shuddered. "After the "accident" he had been the only person to treat me like a person and not a piece of walking refuse. I think he felt guilty about what happened to me and tried to make amends by cheering me up, by trying to teach me the way of the warrior. I would have made a fine knight like himself, he said, even if no one would knight a cursed person, except maybe him. – he continued, clenching his fists until his knuckles whitened – When he died, I was alone again, so much alone that it hurt and I vowed to take revenge on Mother for making my life a living hell, for taking away everything that was good in it… " he finished and hung his head, seemingly drained of all energy.  
>Elyon knelt to the floor beside him, unheeding of her silken dress and slowly extended a hand to pet him reassuringly, but he flinched as if expecting to be hit again and she retracted her hand as if burned. "I am sorry…" she whispered.<br>Phobos made another low sound, but this time it sounded more like a sob. "And do you know what the worst of it is? – he asked, voice thick with tears – For all that I tried to avoid it for all my life, my fate has found me. Adhara has won, Elyon. I am finished. It is just a matter of time."  
>Elyon shook her head, not wanting to believe it. "Do not say so… Not everybody dies of it, I've heard." she offered, trying to console him.<br>Phobos remained silent, not even looking up to acknowledge her words.  
>"Does it hurt very much?" she asked gently.<br>Phobos shook his head. "It does not hurt, Elyon, not as what Mother did to me before. – he replied softly - How do you feel when you work magic?" he asked suddenly.  
>Elyon chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "It feels good, very good. – she said, blushing – I feel energized, the world seems crystal clear and beautiful, full of colours. My heart races and my mind spins. I feel one with everything. It is too intense to bear, sometimes, as if I was going in sensory overload and I know I could burn myself to cinders with it, but that makes it even more exciting. I feel alive, so alive that sometimes the rest of the day seems just a fuzzy dream." Telling it felt a bit too intimate, almost embarrassing, but if there was a person who could relate to it, that would be him, because he had experienced it, lived for it as she did, and suddenly she understood. Something of her moment of dreadful revelation must have shown on her face, because he nodded. "Yes, Elyon… - he whispered – Imagine remembering it, but never being able to feel it again. Imagine living forever in that fuzzy dream, being able to sense the power around you but being separated from it…" the corner of his mouth twisted downwards, as if he was trying to keep a stiff upper lip.<br>Elyon cringed again. It was no mystery why people let themselves die, rather than endure it. It was beyond cruel, it was inhuman.  
>"I would have done this to you, sister. I feel sick inside, now, thinking about it, but that's what would have happened to you if I took your power at the Coronation." he confessed and, even if the thought should have squicked her, enraged her, made her want to hit him again, the tears he couldn't keep at bay anymore made her want to hug him and make it better somehow. She did neither thing.<br>"Why did you want to do this to me?" she asked instead.  
>Phobos shook his head again. "I thought Adhara had poisoned your mind against me. I thought she had convinced you that I was irredeemably evil and that you were just waiting for your occasion to get me, that your innocence was just a ploy. I had to get you before you got me. I thought it would be poetic justice to sever you as you would have done to me and maybe your power would have been enough to restore me. – he explained, tears streaming on his face – I had not counted on you being unaware, on her not telling you anything. Your smiles were sincere, your affection was not feigned. You could have accepted me, if I had told you… If only I had known…"<br>"Would you have given up the throne to me?" she asked, unconvinced.  
>"No. – he replied curtly – I had the right to it, but we could have negotiated with the rebels, brokered a truce… We could have found a solution." he said.<br>"You were afraid of me?" she asked, trying not to think about what-ifs. It would have been too painful.  
>He nodded. "Yes. – he said softly – You are so powerful, Elyon. You do not understand how scary you can be. When you made the prison disappear effortlessly, I trembled, because I knew I was no match to you. Maybe, if I had never been wounded, I would have grown as powerful as you, or maybe you are more powerful for being a woman, but the point is that I knew you could defeat me without breaking a sweat and I didn't understand why you didn't do it, what were you waiting for."<br>"I wasn't. – she said softly – You were not my enemy, until you tried to harm me."  
>Silence fell heavily in the room, while Phobos cried quietly and Elyon watched him, torn between pity and the last remains of the affection she had for him and her queenly pride , both stunned by the weight of their decisions and their assumptions.<br>"What about Cedric?" she asked, finally.  
>"He is in Heatherfield, in exile." he replied softly.<br>"Did they… do it to him too?" she enquired, tentatively.  
>Phobos shook his head. "When I first met him, a mob was trying to kill him for being a magic user. I rescued him, but being severed has always been his worst nightmare. He was terrified beyond reason, even if he had always been very brave. – he reminisced - The Council wanted to get him too, but I told them that I had forced him to do what he did and they believed me. They just shielded him from part of his power and sent him to Earth, under surveillance of the Guardians. In time, they will give his power and his freedom back, if he behaves." Phobos smiled sadly again. "At least I managed to do some good."<br>Elyon bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, but even that pain was not enough to distract her and tears stung her eyes, flowing freely on her face.  
>"Elyon…" he said, softly and wondering. "Please, do not cry. It would be easier if you hated me."<br>"I know, but I can't help it." she replied, somewhat brusquely.  
>It would have been easier if he had been a complete monster as Adhara and Caleb had told her, she would have been able to stifle the last remains of her affection for him, but he was not. He was ruthless, Machiavellian, cruel even, but he had suffered so much for no apparent reason and this was what the pain had made him. Elyon wanted to scream against the futile cruelty of it all, against the traditions, against her mother, against Adhara. They had ruined the lives of a lot of people for nothing, perpetuating pain and prejudice, but now she had the power, she was the Queen, the Light of Meridian, and she would make things better for everybody. This had always been her goal.<br>Elyon dried her tears with the back of her hand and stood up, brushing her dress clean of the dirt of the prison cell with vigorous motions.  
>"Guards!" she called. They arrived in a blink, cudgels at the ready. Phobos curled himself up as much as the chains would allow, as if he expected pain and violence, and Elyon realized that the bruises were not the result of an escape attempt and that the guards had beaten him up. It enraged her beyond anything else. He was weak and powerless and they took advantage of it.<br>"Captain, I want the prisoner unchained, now." she ordered harshly. "And I want the names of the guards who beat him yesterday."  
>Phobos raised his head again, looking at her with amazement and admiration, while the Captain gave her an alarmed look. "Your Grace… are you…" he started, haltingly.<br>"Yes, I am sure of both. Give me the names or I will dismiss all of you. – she interrupted him curtly – Meridian is full of strapping lads who would like very much to enlist, substituting you will be a matter of minutes."  
>"But… but he is…" he continued. Elyon gave him a look so black that he withered.<br>"Whatever he might have been, he has been "cured". – she spat, speaking in a way even people such as him would understand even if she knew that what had been done to him was anything but a cure – He might still be redeemed and he is still my brother and I want him out of irons and out of here. Now. Do I need to repeat myself, Captain?"  
>The Captain shook his head dumbly and saw to it. Elyon couldn't help but cringe at the way her brother tried to avoid the touch of the guards while they opened the chains. He never took his eyes off her, however.<br>The chains had finally been unlocked. Elyon dismissed the guards, unable to stand their sight any longer, and knelt down next to Phobos again. He had not moved an inch. She extended a hand towards him and smiled. "Come, I'll take you out of here." she said softly.  
>His eyes widened in disbelief. "Elyon…" he whispered and gingerly took her hand in his. He was trembling slightly, she noticed, and her heart constricted again in pity.<br>She stood up and hoisted him up to his feet. He was so weak that he almost fell down again and she had to sneak a hand around his waist to support him. He flinched again at her touch and she noticed another black bruise where she had touched him.  
>"It is alright, sister, I can stand." he said and slipped from her grasp, leaning heavily on the wall for support.<br>"Liar." she said softly. "Why didn't you tell me they had beaten you?"  
>Phobos looked down at the floor. "I thought they had done it on your orders." he said, almost inaudibly.<br>Elyon let a frustrated noise and stomped her foot on the floor. "I won't harm you. I just won't. It is over for me. – she said – Whatever you might have done, you have already paid for it dearly enough. Let's start over, please." she implored, feeling tears well again into her eyes. She sneaked an arm around his waist again, gently, mindful of his bruises and looked a question to him.  
>Phobos looked at her with awe and, perhaps, affection and leaned on her for support. "You will be the best Queen Meridian has ever had. If you survive the courtiers and schemers, that is."<p>

Later on that day, Adhara entered her chambers in a fury.  
>"I have been told that the Usurper is no longer in prison." she said sternly, as if she was reverting to the role of her mother.<br>"Yes, it is true." Elyon replied, never raising her eyes from the drawing she was completing. She complimented herself for her calm and collected appearance, even if she wanted to scream at Adhara until she had no more voice. Phobos was presently sleeping next door, under surveillance, it is true, but unrestricted. He had been allowed to bathe and change clothes and now he looked a bit more like his old, fastidious self, at least until one noticed his haunted, empty eyes.  
>"This is madness." Adhara spat.<br>"He is "cured", didn't you say so this morning? What do I need to fear from him?" she asked idly.  
>Adhara shook her head. "He has been allowed to live with the curse for too long to ever be safe, Elyon. The gaol is the place for him, until his addiction kills him. Mercifully, it can't be too long." she said blandly.<br>Elyon almost exploded with fury, but managed to keep a cool exterior. "You will call me "Your Grace" or "Your Majesty", Adhara – she said and the warrior woman flinched – And you will remove yourself from the palace for a while, until I call you back. As it is now, I cannot stand you sight."  
>Adhara clutched at her chest with a pained expression. "Your Majesty… he has poisoned your mind against me. I have never been anything but you faithful servant…" she protested.<br>"Just go, Adhara. Please." she insisted. She didn't want to deal with this now, she just couldn't.  
>The warrior removed herself from the room and, Elyon didn't have any doubt, she would remove herself from the palace as well, as she had ordered.<br>For the first time in her life Elyon felt utterly alone.

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><p>R&amp;R please! Even if you flame. It is cold where I am, I could use flames.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except the OCs. Elyon's surrogate mother and natural mother have been arbitrarily renamed because I couldn't remember their actual names.**

This chapter is quite fluffy.

Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.

Enjoy!

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><p>News of her freeing the usurper from his prison was the talk of the court for the following weeks. Some of the courtiers thought it was a sign of weakness, that she had let her sentiments overrule her judgement and some others thought it was a display of self-assuredness and strength, as if by doing so she was claiming that she didn't fear him and that she had tamed him for good. Both parties frantically tried to factor in Adhara's fall in disgrace and plots and counterplots were hatched. Elyon felt like everybody had ulterior motives in dealing with her, and most had. One wanted more land, another a post at court for his or her heir, a third a commercial concession. She was not a person, but a moody cash machine to be flattered and appeased to obtain favours. When Cedric had told her that she was a princess, a moment that felt ages ago, she had not imagined this.<br>Now that Adhara was gone, now that she had sent her away, she had none in whom she could confide, none to advise her and counsel her. Most of the time, Elyon felt like she was making a fool out of herself and desperately whished someone had given her a manual on how to survive this.  
>Ruling, however, was not her only preoccupation. She had vowed that she would keep Phobos alive and healthy or at least that she would give him comfort as he faded away, which still was a possibility, and to do so, she had spent evenings locked away in the vast royal library, perusing old tomes of magic and history.<br>Her readings had left her with an even bleaker image of her kingdom. Apparently, in older times, the male offspring of the Queen were killed in the crib, lest they became sorcerers, which could happen even if they didn't have a magic-using father as Phobos did. It was only in later times that they were allowed to live, under surveillance, and killed only if they manifested any magical attitude at all. Severing came into practice later still and, apparently, had been done much more frequently than she had thought. The historians particularly commended Queen Candice, who had severed her own brother at the tender age of fifteen. Interestingly, though, prince Aloys had survived to an old age and had apparently borne no ill will to his cruel sister, becoming her most devoted knight.  
>Her family's history, rife as it was with tales of cruelty and prejudice, was horrible enough, but, apparently, commoners, as Cedric must have been, had it even worse. Very few made it to court to be severed. Most of them were killed by enraged mobs. Stoning seemed to be a favourite execution technique.<br>Books about magic were marginally more useful. They detailed the theory of severing and the effects on the severed person: loss of interest to pleasurable activities, loss of appetite, sleepiness, catatonia, depression, suicidal tendencies and finally death. The survival figures were appalling: most of the severed died within six months and only two out of a hundred lived to the fifth year.  
>There was no cure for it. The only thing that could relieve their suffering would be to find a new pursuit to distract them from the pain or, as the authoresses wrote "to wean them from the addiction". Manual labour was deemed especially effective for its character-building properties.<br>None of the books explained why male magic users were evil by default, probably because there was no rational explanation.

It had been another dreadful day. Elyon felt like crying. She had to contend with courtiers about stupid privileges while out there people complained about the price of bread. She felt like she needed comfort, but she had no one who would give her any. She sighed and shook her head. She had to be strong, to be comforting, a mother for her people. She couldn't afford weakness.  
>Silently, she slipped into her brother's chamber. This had become their evening ritual. Every day, after holding court, she would slip into his chambers and talk to him until late. At the beginning he had been very stiff and circumspect, but, gradually, he had started to relax around her, to allow himself to be comfortable and Elyon could understand why many people had been charmed by him. Even now that he was melancholy and depressed, he was still charming and witty and he seemed to liven up when she was with him. In a better world, he would have been a great older brother.<br>He was sitting in a monumental, old-fashioned armchair, staring out of the window into the garden below. A plate of food, almost untouched, rested on a table at his elbow.  
>"You have eaten almost nothing again…" she scolded gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.<br>This seemed to break him from his reverie. "Elyon… - he said softly, turning to look at her – I think I have forgotten about it again. – he looked quite sheepish as he said so - But you look exhausted. Come, sit here." he stood from the chair and all but pushed her into it, standing next to her.  
>For once Elyon didn't protest. She was physically and mentally drained.<br>"What happened?" he asked, concerned. Ever since she took him out of prison, he had always been gentle and attentive with her as he had been when she first met him, but while that had been a farce spurred by fear and suspicion, this was real, this was his brother as he would have been if he had not been hurt so much by their mother. It was amazing how his eyes lost that forlorn look when he was concerned with her welfare.  
>"It is the courtiers. – she replied wearily - They are the most horrible bunch of self-centred assholes in the whole world, honest." she blurted out, rather unladylike.<br>Phobos chuckled. "Girls on Earth have the most interesting vocabulary, – he said lightly – but you are right about it. They only care about themselves and would do almost anything to increase their privileges."  
>"Sometimes I wish I could tell them to shut up and get the hell away from me." she confessed.<br>Phobos smiled. "You should threaten to blast them apart." he advised.  
>Elyon gave him a disbelieving look.<br>"It worked for me." he said shrugging.  
>"Did you blast any of them for real?" she asked, interested.<br>"Just a few." he laughed and Elyon laughed with him, feeling slightly better.  
>"Seriously. I wish I had someone to help me through this. I can't make it alone." she sighed.<br>Phobos kneeled next to the chair and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You will, sister. You are stronger than you think."  
>Elyon looked into his eyes and sighed again. "Would you help me?" she said, without thinking, but, even as she thought about it, she realized that it would be a good idea. He was nothing but politically shrewd and maybe this would help him out of his depression.<br>His eyes widened. "You can't mean it…" he said softly.  
>"I do. – she replied – Why?"<br>He stood up and moved away from her in a blink, only for his head to spin from the suddenness of the movement. He leaned on another chair for support and breathed deeply. He was still very weak.  
>"It would be political suicide, Elyon. – he managed to say – I am the enemy. You are already risking it by showing so much care for me, by visiting me every day. You'd better leave me alone, ignore me."<br>"Would you rather I didn't come anymore?" she asked softly and sadly. She had thought he had grown as fond of her as she had of him.  
>Phobos shook his head and closed his eyes. "Gods, no. - he breathed – Sometimes I think that your visits are the only thing that keeps me barely sane. But that's not about me, it is about you. You need to be selfish sometimes, Elyon."<br>Elyon sighed and stood up from the armchair, walking to him and all but dragging him bodily to sit down. "This chair is big enough for both and you are unwell." she said and sat next to him, snuggling close. He was very thin and bony but it felt good to sit next to him like this. At first, he sat rigid as a board, but he gradually relaxed enough to put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close.  
>"They need not know it. – she whispered – Please, I need help and you need purpose."<br>Phobos sighed and petted her hair. "I have grown to love you too much to say yes, Elyon. – he replied and her heart missed a beat at his words – You saved me, you forgave me and the least I can do is keep you safe, even from yourself."  
>Elyon grabbed the lapels of his tunic and buried her face in his chest. "I love you too, Phobos. Please, I cannot bear to see you fade away."<br>Phobos hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. "I will try my best to resist, little sister, but it is so very hard… I feel empty, as if nothing matters."  
>"Nothing at all?" she asked, lifting her head to look into his eyes.<br>Phobos smiled gently. "You do, little sister. –he replied – I know it sounds strange, I was trying to kill you not three months ago, but you are the only person to show me kindness now that I am so weak, even if it would have been your right to be cruel. It used to irk me, but now it soothes me. You make me feel a person and not a remnant."  
>"Would you like to stay in the garden, tomorrow?" she asked, feeling all fuzzy and warm inside from his words. "I remember that you liked it."<br>His eyes widened. "It would be good to stay in the sun after all this time. But are you sure about this? Are you not afraid that I would escape?" he asked.  
>"Would you?" she retorted, smiling.<br>"Why should I? – he said cynically – What is there for me, out there?"  
>Elyon looked at him with a slightly wounded expression and he rolled his eyes.<br>"Damn you, Elyon. Why do you do this to me? – he asked – I will not go because of you. Happy now?"  
>Elyon nodded and snuggled close to him again. "So, shall I join you in the garden tomorrow?" she asked.<br>"I would like it very much, little sister." he admitted.  
>Elyon looked outside. It was already very dark. She sighed. "So… I will see you tomorrow." she said, and tried to disentangle herself from him. Not that she really wanted to go. She liked to relax with him, to hold him close, and she knew he needed it, but she had to catch some sleep. Tomorrow would be as exhausting as today.<br>"Do you need to go already?" Phobos asked softly, reflexively tightening his hold on her.  
>Elyon nodded. "I need to sleep, unfortunately." she said, stifling a yawn.<br>"I see." he sighed and let her go.  
>Elyon stood up and went to the door. He followed her, looking dejectedly at the ground.<br>"Goodnight, Elyon." he said when she was already on the threshold.  
>"Goodnight, Phobos." she replied over her shoulder and closed the door behind her, replacing the magical lock.<br>Alone in the chamber, Phobos let himself slide to the floor against the wood.

Later that night, Elyon was awoken by a tortured scream. Without thinking, she jumped from her bed and rushed to the door in her nightgown. She was at his brother's door in a matter of seconds and she opened the door without second thoughts.  
>Phobos was thrashing on the bed, clad only in a pair of loose pyjama trousers and half-entangled in the bedclothes, in the throes of some horrible nightmare. She ran to the bed and held him down by the shoulders. "It is alright, I'm here. It's over, it's over…" she whispered and, finally, he woke up, confused and still terrified.<br>"Elyon… - he gasped after a second of incomprehension, fighting for breath – What are you doing here?"  
>Elyon smiled reassuringly. "You were having a nightmare. I just came to check on you." she said, forcing herself to be cheerful, even if she was quite worried. She knew he had nightmares, but that had been worse than anything so far.<br>"I am sorry I woke you up, little sister. –he said apologetically – It has passed now. You can go back to sleep." he tried to put up a brave face, but it was quite clear that he was still terrified by whatever he had dreamed.  
>"Nonsense. – she replied – I will stay here until I'm certain you feel better. Do you think you could go back to sleep?"<br>"I-I can try." said Phobos, looking at her with wonder and gratitude.  
>"Do not look at me like this. It is perfectly normal to reassure people after they had a nightmare." she said, but he gave her a sad look. Elyon should have imagined that their mother wouldn't have been the type to reassure unwanted male offspring when they had nightmares.<br>"Scoot over." she ordered and he obeyed, leaving space enough for her to lie down, but when she did so he almost fell off the bed in surprise.  
>"What are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.<br>"You need to sleep and so do I and if you start having nightmares again I will have to come over to check on you again and I won't be able to sleep. This is just practical. – she explained –Siblings do this all the time on Earth. And sure as hell I'm not sleeping on the armchair."  
>"If you say so…" he said, dubious, and scooted as far as possible from her.<br>"I do. Now go back to sleep." she retorted grumpily, closing her eyes.  
>Phobos sighed but couldn't help but obey.<p>

Even if they had started the night as far as possible, the following morning Elyon awoke with her head on his shoulder and her arm flung across his bare chest. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him. He was warm and smelled like green, growing things. Why did it feel so good to wake up like this?  
>"Good morning, Elyon…" Phobos whispered gently, brushing strands of hair from her face.<br>Instinctively, she purred in pleasure. "Good morning. – she replied, looking up at him – Did you sleep well?"  
>Phobos sighed. "Very much so, little sister. Thank you." For some reason, his voice sounded wistful as he thanked her.<br>"I have to go, now, before someone notices." she said. They had done nothing wrong, but the courtiers loved to gossip.  
>She propped herself on an elbow and gazed into his eyes. As usual when she was around, they were not empty and hollow, but they shone with some barely tamed emotion.<br>"Will you be alright, today?" she asked gently.  
>"Not worse than usual." he replied, rolling off the bed and grabbing a tunic. For a moment Elyon caught herself staring at him while he dressed and then she averted her gaze, stifling a blush. He might be her brother, but he was beautiful and she had eyes to see, she rationalized.<br>"You promised you would join me in the garden, later." he said.  
>"I will, sure thing." she replied, getting off the bed and hoping that her nightgown was not too transparent or revealing.<br>"Is this goodbye, then?" he asked.  
>Elyon nodded and went to the door, but she turned back with her hand on the handle. Phobos was standing next to the bed, still looking at her with that oddly intense gaze. She shivered lightly, probably from the cold, against which her nightgown was no great protection. She took a deep breath and flung herself out of the room, closing the door behind her.<br>For some reason, saying goodbye was becoming more difficult every time.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except the OCs. Elyon's surrogate mother and natural mother have been arbitrarily renamed because I couldn't remember their actual names.**

**Introspective, fluffy, bucolic.**

**Warnings: disturbing, nightmarish imagery in the first part with a bit of graphic violence and a bit of !InsectHorror. Nightmares are b###es. (censored to keep rating T lol)**

**Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.**

**P.S. I know you'r out there because I've been looking at the traffic stats. Review or there will be no more chapters.  
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><p>His previous life felt ages past, but it had been just a scant few months away, still it was as gone as the first Queens back in their crypts. In that life, Phobos had loved to stay in his gardens, among the smell and colours of his flowers and the soft sound of the wind among the trees. The gardens had always been very quiet and peaceful and, since they had been also heavily warded, they were the only place where the Prince could relax and drop his guard even a fraction of an inch. He used to spend long peaceful moments soaking into the magical spring to replenish his crippled powers and reflect, alone, undisturbed.<br>Yes, the gardens were the part of the palace that held the most pleasant memories for him but, in spite of that, and even if the day was sunny and warm and the guards his sister had assigned him were unobtrusive, lounging in the distance, bored, Phobos found little solace in his escapade.  
>Now that his sister's comforting presence was no longer with him, the sticky tendrils of the nightmare that had seized him the night before gripped him again.<br>Ever since what happened to him in Kandrakar, and, to tell the truth even before, ever since the "accident", he had been no stranger to nightmares and seldom managed to have an entire, unbroken night of sleep, but this last one had cut deeper and he couldn't shake it off. He had been young again, in the nightmare, barely sixteen, recently ascended to the throne of Meridian. He was walking through the gardens, but the flowers were all blackened and wilted and crumbling, the grass greyish and brittle under his feet, the trees bare of leaves and gnarled and the silence eerie. Phobos walked among this silent scenery feeling more anguished by the second. He realized with horror that the very walls of the palace were collapsing, crumbling, decaying, that everything around him was dead and that it was his fault, then the scene changed, bringing him back to the day he met Cedric for the first time, rescuing him from an angry mob.  
>He had been ahorse that day and with him had been a patrol of guards, while in the nightmare he was alone and on foot. He could see in the distance a younger and half-starved Cedric, in his snake form, trying to slither away from the mob, already wounded and bleeding, terrified. Behind him, a grey mob of faceless, angry people, roared and waved pitchforks, hoes and other assorted, wicked, improvised weapons, out for his blood. He started to run towards them, he knew he could stop them, that he could save Cedric, he was the Prince after all, but it felt like running through jelly. He ran and ran but didn't move fast enough and the mob closed in on Cedric, shouting, hitting, tearing, weapons rising and falling in frenzy, inhuman in its mindless savagery. Cedric screamed and thrashed, trying to defend himself, but they were too many and he was weak and still unable to control his nascent powers. Phobos could see everything with crystal clarity, every blow, every wound, hear every gasp and plea and scream, but could do nothing, completely powerless, trapped a few feet away from his dying future minion. Cedric's screams rose in pitch and anguish as blood welled from countless wounds and flexible bones broke, until he screamed no more, but the mob kept on savaging him, until they grew bored of mauling a corpse and left him to rot in the middle of the road. As soon as the deed was done, Phobos could move again, only to collapse on his knees next to the mangled corpse. Shapeshifters always died in their true form, so Cedric should have remained a snake-person, instead he had changed into the human visage Phobos knew so well. His pretty, boyish face was almost unrecognizable after the mob had finished with him, his long, pale golden hair tangled and caked with dirt and blood and thicker things oozing from his crushed skull, but worse than the wounds that marred his pale skin, worse than his broken and twisted limbs, were his glazed violet eyes, turned upon him with accusation, terror and hopelessness, as if he knew that Phobos should have made it better, that he should have saved him.<br>Suddenly, the accusing visage changed and he was gazing upon his father, dying of a thousand wounds, choking on his own blood, every breath a rasping, gurgling struggle. He looked up and saw the grey walls of a high watchtower, a lamp abandoned on the crenelated parapet. Cathair had just jumped. Every bone in his body must have been broken, but the knight somehow managed to grab the collar of Phobos' tunic and drag him closer to his face. "You… have… killed… me." Cathair rasped, painfully. Phobos shook his head, frantically, tears streaming down his face. It was not his fault. He had not done it on purpose. "I loved you, father." he said, and it was true. Cathair had been the only one to treat him like a person, even after the "accident", and he had loved him dearly for that, he had wanted to be like him, brave and just and cheerful, had craved his approval and his love and now, seeing the hate and resentment etched on his pained features broke something inside of him. With a last rattling breath, Cathair was no more and Phobos found himself back in the palace, in the chambers where he had imprisoned his mother, with all comforts but under so many layers of protective wards that she couldn't have escaped. The wards had kept her in efficiently, but had been unable to keep the plague out.  
>Elaena Escanor, who had been his queen until he deposed her, who had been his mother until he refused her for causing his father's death, lay on the four-poster bed in a simple shift. Her glorious mahogany hair was unbound and lustreless, her face sunken and grey, marred by the marks of the disease. He neared the bed, gazing mournfully at her. He had tried to love her when he was younger, despite her callousness and indifference towards him, and was not happy about her death. Only then he noticed that the room was filled with the stench of decay. In the merciless heat of that terrible summer, the deposed queen had already started to rot. The process speeded under his eyes and soon thick, dark fluids started to leak onto the bed, while her flesh shrunk on her bones and maggots started crawling over her, chittering and chewing, consuming her. Phobos tried to wrench himself away from his mother's bedside but found himself unable, completely paralyzed, and then realised with growing horror that the thing on the bed was no longer his mother, but Elyon, her blue eyes staring and accusing, dead from his hand as well. "You killed us all." Elyon said quietly, maggots and beetles crawling out of her mouth and nostrils and over her open, staring eyes.<br>If Elyon, alive and warm and worried about him, had not woken him up then, he doubted that his sanity, such as it was now, would have survived intact.  
>She tried to console and comfort him, that wonderful young woman that barely knew him and would have had every right to mistrust and avoid him and, beside her, he had slept better than in ages, as if he was still a child, unaware of the cruelty of the world. No one had ever done that for him. He had always been an afterthought, a by-product, tolerated but not cherished and, after the accident, barely so, especially when his mother became pregnant again.<br>Phobos stretched on the grass under what used to be his favourite tree.  
>It was strange how the person who had caused his ultimate downfall was also the sole person that genuinely cared for him, not out of guilt or not only, but just because, and it was stranger still that he had no resentment left against her, but had grown to care for her as well.<br>It was gratitude for all that she did for him, certainly, for finding time to be with him and make him feel less alone and desolate, for the thousand little ways she had of showing him that he was a person to him, not just an obligation, for her implicit trust in him, but gratitude was not enough to explain what was happening to him. Every waking moment when she was far from him was drudgery and his grey world seemed to liven up and regain its colours only when she was around. She talked to him and laughed with him or simply held him close (he had never had so much physical contact with anyone before, except when he used to spar and scuffle as a youth) and he found himself able to forget his woes for a while, wanting to be able to repay all that kindness and wanting those moments to never end. It was uncanny, especially since he had thought himself unable to feel any positive emotion for years, heart scoured clean of kindness and weakness by his mother's cruelty and his father's death.  
>It must be some sort of subconscious defence mechanism, he told himself, shaking his head. He had thought that the "procedure" had taken all the will to live from him, but evidently, some part of him didn't want to give up, so he had latched on to her to have a reason to keep going. Anything was better than death, even letting his defences down with a teenaged sister who was too caring for her own good. If he had been whole, he wouldn't have cared about her, wouldn't have needed her. He had learnt painfully enough to rely only on himself, to let no one close enough to hurt him, not even Cedric, who had been his squire and then his foremost servant, who could have been a friend if he had allowed him to come close enough.<br>If he had been whole, he wouldn't have counted the minutes until she joined him into the garden, wouldn't have cared a whit about the state of the grounds, overgrown with weeds and in bad need of attention, wouldn't have wanted for everything to be beautiful and perfect for her, just to see her blue eyes sparkle with wonder, but he was not whole, had not been for ages, to tell the truth, because having to leech power to keep going was not being whole, but just eking out a living, so he did all those stupid things. That was not him, not really, it was just a consequence of the "procedure", he told himself, sitting up under his tree and staring at the gods-forsaken weeds in the flowerbeds.  
>Sighing, he got to his feet and walked to the flowerbeds, biting the inside of his cheek. He had always taken care personally of his garden, using his magic, allowing no intervention of meddling gardeners, and Elyon must have been too occupied with more pressing issues to have time to appoint caretakers.<br>Phobos sighed again. Those were his bloody flowers, the flowers he had taken so long to breed and grow, now choking with weeds, and surely he still had self-respect enough not to want his sister to see his prized garden reduced in such a sorry state, it was about him, not for her, he told himself as if in self-defence, kneeling down beside the flowers and yanking angrily at a particularly nasty bunch of weeds.  
>It couldn't be too hard, could it? He knew what to do, he had always done it himself; he just had to find another way to do it. Besides, he thought wryly, the righteous bastards had told him that a bit of manual labour would do him good.<br>Phobos chuckled sarcastically, rolled up his sleeves and set out to work.

When she finally managed to escape the court, Elyon was almost beside herself with worry about her brother. Left to his own devices all day long, alone except for a couple of guards, he must have had a lot of time to brood. At least, in his chambers he would have had books at his disposal. And what if he had been overcome by a bout of despair and tried to hurt himself? There were plenty of ways to hurt oneself in a garden.  
>She hastened towards her goal as much as dignity, her trailing gown and her high-heeled shoes allowed, but when the guards closed the outer door behind her, allowing her out into the summer light, she kicked her shoes away and lifted her gown. The grass felt good under her feet; she used to love to walk barefoot in the grass in the park near the school, back in Heatherfield.<br>Frowning, she set aside her happy recollections and resumed her search for Phobos. Since she was assuming the worst about his mood and condition, she was quite astonished upon finding him.  
>He was shirtless and sweating, his tunic hanging from a nearby low branch, kneeling on the grass next to a flowerbed and laying waste to weeds with his bare hands, his expression pleased and so alive that Elyon's heart almost missed a beat. Judging from the heaps of withering greens piled next to other flowerbeds, he must have been at this task for hours.<br>Elyon approached him silently, unwilling to disturb him, since he appeared so intent to his task and oblivious to everything else. Her heart swelled with happiness at the thought that he might have found something he enjoyed and that could distract him from his plight. She stood a few paces from him, almost holding her breath, but somehow he managed to notice her nonetheless.  
>"Elyon! – he exclaimed, embarrassed, hastily standing and brushing a stand of sweaty hair from his flushed and dirt-streaked face – How long have you been there? What time is it?"<br>"Just arrived. – she replied sheepishly, straining to keep her eyes trained on his face – It's already half past five."  
>Phobos frowned and cursed under his breath. "I am sorry that you have to see me in such state, Elyon. – he said apologetically, looking down at his dirty hands and grass-stained trousers – I thought I would have finished before you arrived, but it is quite harder than I anticipated, especially without any tool. I must have lost track of time."<br>Elyon waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Don't worry about that. – she said – Did you remember to eat today, instead?" she asked motherly.  
>Phobos grinned like a schoolboy and her heart almost burst with bittersweet, complicated emotions. "If you count berries and apricots straight from the tree as food, then yes. I'm still quite hungry, however." he replied.<br>Elyon couldn't contain a squeal. "I love apricots! –she said – I didn't know there was an apricot tree in this garden."  
>Phobos smiled to her. "It has always been there, as far as I know, it must have been planted by one of our ancestors. - he explained – Do you want any?"<br>Elyon nodded and Phobos motioned towards a tree some ten paces away. Elyon followed him there and noticed there were no low-hanging apricots. "You've eaten them all?" she asked, pouting.  
>Phobos laughed. "No, no, there are plenty in the higher branches, I can give you a leg up to climb, if you want." he offered, cheerfully.<br>Elyon eyed the tree suspiciously and then looked at her gown. "I'll rip by dress to tatters, if I climb in it." she said wistfully. Climbing trees was another thing from her childhood in Heatherfield that she missed dearly. She gave a quick look around. The guards were out of sight. Elyon quickly slipped out of her dress, grateful towards her chambermaid for having selected something loose and flowing and without stays.  
>"Elyon!" Phobos exclaimed, turning beetroot red and averting his gaze.<br>"What's up? – she asked, irritated, trying not to feel embarrassed herself. He was just her brother, there was no problem with him seeing her like this, was it? – I still got a shift, don't I? And girls on the beach wear much less than this."  
>There was a moment of uneasy, embarrassed silence. "Well, - she added - I guess you've never been to the beach, have you? - she added and Phobos shook his head – Come on, give me a hand." she added, sighing and gesturing towards the tree.<br>"A-alright." he acquiesced and joined his hands to form a step. Elyon stepped on his hands and supported herself on his shoulders as he heaved up. His skin was hot from the sun and the exertion and it was no small distraction. Trying not to think about it, she clung to the lowest branch and pulled herself up with ease, steadily climbing higher. She was short, but not wimpy.  
>On the ground, Phobos looked up at her, smiling. Elyon smiled in return.<br>"I had not known girl on Earth wore rabbit-patterned smallclothes." he drawled with a broad grin.  
>Elyon blushed furiously and almost lost her grip on the branch in her haste to tug her shift down. "Phobos! You pervert! No looking up my dress!" she yelled, hurling a too-ripe apricot towards him.<br>Phobos narrowly evaded the missile. "I couldn't help looking at them, your shift had ridden so high… - he explained, unrepentant – I'll close my eyes, if it pleases you, but then I'll be unable to catch you if you fall."  
>"I won't." she retorted, irritated, sticking her tongue out at him.<br>Phobos just shrugged and closed his eyes. "As my Queen commands." he said, mock-serious, standing to attention. Elyon found a very unripe apricot and threw it, hitting him squarely on the head. The fruit, still green as a lemon and hard as a tennis ball, bounced away.  
>"Ouch!" he exclaimed and she started laughing at his comically offended and perplexed expression. "I hope I have not offended him for real, now." she thought, but then he started laughing as well and soon they were both laughing out loud, feeling content and carefree. Elyon grabbed an apricot and ate it still on the tree, the sweet juice dribbling on her chin.<br>"Would you mind throwing another, less unripe, apricot to me? Seeing you eat is making me hungry." he asked. Elyon picked a fruit and took aim, only to have him raise his hands and duck for cover behind the tree trunk, smirking. Both started laughing again and Elyon let the fruit drop into his awaiting hands. Soon, to speed things up and because her position up the tree was quite uncomfortable, he was using his discarded tunic as a catching implement, into which she could throw more fruits and then Elyon was climbing down again, limbs aching. When his hands encircled her waist to help her down the last drop, Elyon felt her stomach do strange lurch. Had she already eaten enough apricots to feel ill?  
>Phobos handed her dress back to her mutely. She grabbed it and slung it onto her shoulder. "I'm likely to stain it with fruit or grass." she said. Together, they returned to the flowerbeds and sat on the grass nearby, the tunicful of apricots on the grass between them.<br>They talked and talked and laughed, all cares forgotten, while the sun went down slowly. Elyon had some real food brought down from the kitchens and they ate on the grass, as if it was a picnic, at the low light of a lantern. For the first time since he had returned from Kandrakar, Phobos didn't have a haunted look in his eyes. He looked relaxed, confident even, and she couldn't help noticing how handsome he was. Why, oh why, couldn't she stop noticing it? He was her brother: she shouldn't notice things like that about him.  
>Between the two of them, they made short work of the food (he was finally eating a bit more, she noticed, rejoicing) and afterwards they lay in the grass looking at the stars and talking some more.<br>"You know, - he told her later, quietly, without looking at her –I didn't know I could feel so happy. Thank you Elyon, you have granted me a great, perhaps undeserved boon today."  
>Elyon felt her heart clench at his words. It was not as if she had done anything special, just what she would have done anyway for a person she cared for.<br>"We have to go back now, unfortunately." she said, sitting up and donning her dress. He sighed and picked himself up as well, shaking the last apricots from his tunic. "But you can come to the gardens again tomorrow, if you like. I'll make sure you have some gardening tools and I'll come along to help later, if you want." she added, standing up. All of a sudden his arms were around her and he hugged her tight for an instant before letting her go, and backing hastily, looking quite astonished of his daring. It took her a moment to register his almost comically confused expression; she was altogether too busy processing the wonderful sensation of his arms around her, his green smell, like new spring leaves, his warmth, the smoothness of his skin. It lasted less than a second, probably, but she wished it had been longer. She wished she had the time to savour it.  
>"I-I'm sorry, – he stuttered, blushing so much that he should have glowed in the dark – I do not know what came upon me."<br>"It's alright. It was just a hug. - she said a bit breathless – There is nothing wrong in it."  
>Just an innocent, brotherly hug, she told herself, take your mind out of the gutter, Elyon. He's just trying to show affection, but he's not used to it. Nothing more, nothing less.<br>Phobos nodded, still a bit flustered and cleared his voice. "Thank you Elyon, for everything. You are a very good person." he said.  
>If only he knew how she had been thinking about him on and off, he would probably revise his opinion of her in a second, she told herself wryly. "It's alright. –she said smiling – Let's go back." she took his hand and, together, they returned to the castle.<p>

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><p><strong>Next chapter, which will be posted only if I receive at least three reviews, will contain some angst. Rating may rise already.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except the OCs. Elyon's surrogate mother and natural mother have been arbitrarily renamed because I couldn't remember their actual names.**

**Another introspective chapter, with bits of angst. I have decided to leave the really angsty and M-rated-for-violence part for next chapter, otherwise it would become too long.  
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**Warnings: mentions of incest.  
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**Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.**

**P.S. I know you'r out there because I've been looking at the traffic stats. Review, please. (this does not apply to you, ACompanyofSwans, Mondgeist and anonymous reviewer of chapter 3)  
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><p>Who would have thought that would be one of the best and yet most complicated summers in her life?<br>Everything seemed to be falling into place: she was finally getting the hang of ruling, thanks to her extensive readings in the palace library and insightful conversations with advisers, the civil unrest seemed to have quieted, the harvest had been abundant and her brother seemed to have overcome the worst of the crisis.  
>Throughout the summer, he had spent all of his days working in the garden, repairing past inattentions and making improvements, the desperation almost gone from his eyes and manners, replaced by a renewed self-confidence.<br>Elyon cherished the peaceful and happy moments she had been able to spend with him, reading on the grass, chatting and joking or simply watching him at work. He had taken the habit of working shirtless (a thing less to wash, he said) and the long hours of hard work under the sun had tanned his skin golden and made muscles ripple on his lean frame.  
>Sometimes Elyon found it quite difficult to look away and to concentrate on anything else when he was working and it made her feel perverted.<br>If it had been just a matter of physical attractiveness, it would have been bad enough, but the real problem was that it was not just that. In the few weeks they had together when he was still Prince, he had been cold, arrogant and aloof, but now all of that had been stripped off him, leaving only a person who was in need of affection and reassurance and who could be surprisingly gentle and caring.  
>He looked upon her as if she was the anchor that kept his whole world from drifting away and Elyon found herself overwhelmed and at the same time strengthened by his need for her.<br>In her mind, when perverted thoughts overrode common sense, he was not just a nice piece of ass, but also a complex, charming, fragile, lovable person and she desired him for all of those reasons.  
>She was in a very deep quagmire, but she was confident that she would have self-control enough to never act on those impulses.<br>She had vowed to keep him safe, to protect him, even if it meant protecting him from her very self.

Autumn arrived. Elyon was almost glad of it, sine it would put an end to part of her torture (colder days meant no more shirtless Phobos), but she had thought of a sunny, dry autumn. That autumn, instead was chilly and rainy and miserable and it curtailed the time Phobos could spend in the gardens.  
>In a few weeks, it started to tell. He became restless, then apathetic again, spending whole days looking out of the window, waiting for the rain to stop.<br>Elyon had thought he had put this behind him and didn't know what to do with him now.  
>She raked her brain, thinking of alternatives. Reading was not enough, it seemed, because it left him too much time to brood. He needed some physical pursuit to distract him, but she couldn't think of anything sensible. She couldn't just send him to the kitchens or to help the servants, it would sound too much like a humiliation.<br>The answer came to her one morning, while she passed through the bridge overlooking the courtyard where a group of guards had been training. He used to be a squire, she thought, used to train in this very courtyard with our father; maybe this kind of exercise would prove a suitable distraction.  
>Of course, the courtiers would complain about the degrees of liberty accorded to her brother and question the wisdom of letting him anywhere near a weapon (when she accorded him gardening tools, they had suggested he could try to kill her with those, the paranoids) but this time she had an answer ready for them.<br>She could cite the example of Prince Aloys, who had been redeemed and became Queen Candice's Champion, she could tell them that she had tamed him enough to consider him inoffensive, she could tell them a lot of bullshit like that, cooking it up in a way that would make her decision seem a show of strength and ruthlessness instead of the act of mercy and care it really was.  
>She was finally starting to think as a Queen.<p>

She proposed her solution to him that very evening, over supper.  
>It had rained for the past three days, hard and heavy, shrouding the world in grey and he looked more haunted than ever, even if he was trying to keep up a cheerful façade for her. His grey-blue eyes were surrounded by dark circles and his face was drawn and pale, the summer tan already gone, but he still looked beautiful to her.<br>"You look forlorn." she said, setting down her cup.  
>He tried to smile. "I'm sorry, Elyon. – he replied quietly – I have too much time to think, these days. It makes me melancholy, but it will pass. Do not trouble yourself with this."<br>"How would you like to train with the guards?" she blurted, quickly.  
>Phobos looks flabbergasted. "Excuse me?" he asked.<br>Elyon sighed. "You said you used to train as a kid, so I thought you may like it and since the garden is impracticable most days…" she trailed off. "But if you do not like, just forget about it." she hurriedly added.  
>Phobos scrutinised her for a long moment. "Do you really think that it is a good idea? What about the courtiers?" he asked.<br>"I've managed to convince the damn courtiers that it is a very good idea. Now they are thoroughly convinced that I've tamed you for good." she said smugly.  
>Phobos grimaced at the thought and stood up, circling around the table and positioning himself at the back of her chair, hands on her shoulders. "You've put some thought into this, haven't you? Are you not worried that I may try to harm you, Elyon?" he whispered in her ear, leaning over her, his voice menacing, his breath playing on her skin. Elyon shuddered, but not in fear.<br>"I do not think you would harm me, now. Would you?" she retorted breathlessly, hoping that he didn't notice the effect he was having on her.  
>His hands left her shoulders and he knelt beside her chair, looking at her with an odd intensity. "I should yearn to, - he replied in a low, tight voice and Elyon felt her heart tremble – you're the reason why I've lost everything, but you have given me so much in return… I can't hurt you, Elyon, no more than I can fly or make it stop raining."<br>Elyon remained silent and Phobos continued his train of thoughts. "I am ever amazed about how much you care for me, even after all I've done to you and to Meridian." he said.  
>"Oh, but it is nothing…" Elyon tried to chime in, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips and she couldn't speak at all, couldn't anything but focus on the slight pressure and on his voice.<br>"It is not "nothing", Elyon, it is everything, everything I would have hoped for if I had known I could hope. – he said – It's what I had been yearning when I was young and what I'd forsworn as a useless weakness when I understood I couldn't have it. It is all of this and more, because it is undeserved. Your love is not "nothing" to me, Elyon." His voice held so much feeling that her heart tightened in her chest.  
>"It is not "nothing" to me either, not for real." she confessed in a whisper, blushing. He smiled, smiled for real, not just to ease her worries, and Elyon felt her mind fog over.<br>When she came back in control of her actions, she had already grabbed him by the lapels of his tunic and pulled him towards her, leaning over to meet him halfway, faces almost touching, but she still managed to avoid the irreparable by turning her head and ended up kissing his cheek instead of his lips. "Oh hell, what was I thinking I was doing?" she asked herself, hiding her beetroot red blush by laying her head on his shoulder.  
>Phobos froze for a second, then put his arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head, a tender, brotherly gesture that made her feel ten times more horrible, especially as her body responded in wholly inappropriate ways to his scent and the feel of his arms around her.<br>After a few seconds, Phobos released her and scrambled to his feet, staring at the flames in the fireplace.  
>Elyon gazed at the floor and sipped a bit of water in an effort to regain a bit of control.<br>"So, - she said finally, to break the awkward silence – what about my proposal?"  
>Phobos turned his gaze towards her. "I would be glad to join the guards in their training." he said quietly, with a faint smile.<p>

When he was younger, until his father's demise, Phobos used to train swordplay every day for hours, as squires, even those that had no chance of ever becoming knights, like him, were supposed to do. He had been quite good and roughing up other squires had been the outlet for his anger towards the world.  
>Later, after usurping his mother's throne, he always made sure he had a bit of time every week to spar with Cedric or Frost, just to keep the habit and because it was fun, but in the last six months his training had managed to rust and now, more often than not, the guards gave him a hell of a beating, but, at least, when he was training he couldn't think.<br>When he rested, however, dark thoughts assailed him, making him fear the scant hours between the ending of the training and the arrival of Elyon  
>Fortunately, he was too exhausted to dream, most nights.<br>Memories of his father haunted him, now that he was walking again the way of the warrior, and made him wish there had been a way to save him.  
>Maybe, if he had asked his mother to let him go with him in exile, he wouldn't have jumped, he would have found a reason to keep going, as he had now, and if he had done that, his mother will still be alive, maybe, Elyon wouldn't have suffered and Meridian wouldn't have been ruled by a dictator for sixteen years, but he had been too full of desire for revenge to think that maybe he could salvage what was left of the only person who had truly cared for him before Elyon.<br>He had tried to rule as his mother had, at first, but the civil war had changed everything and since he couldn't be loved, not even by his mother, let alone his subjects, he had decided he would be feared. He had ruled with an iron grip, deriving little pleasure in it, wary of complots, rebellions and of the return of his kidnapped sister, no doubt turned against him by Adhara and all of this for what?  
>Just to spite his mother?<br>He had only managed to demonstrate what she had foretold: that a male sorcerer would inevitably turn to evil.  
>Phobos suspected that the consequences of his decisions would influence Meridian for years to come and not positively.<br>And then there was the issue of Elyon.  
>That night, when she proposed that he trained with the guards, he had thought that she was going to kiss him, after he had blurted out his feelings for her. For a split second, it had looked like their lips were going to meet and he hadn't pulled away, he hadn't turned his face. He had yielded, unresisting, to her.<br>He had wanted her to kiss him, wanted it so fiercely that his whole body had felt on fire and had felt horribly disappointed when it turned out that her was only a sisterly kiss on the cheek.  
>He wanted to kiss his innocent little sister and he was such a perverted coward that he couldn't even do it and get on with it, but had to think that she was initiating it, that it was her bad, her fault her perversion.<br>He knew it was wrong, so very wrong that words almost couldn't describe it, but he couldn't help but keep on thinking of that near miss and, when he was about to sleep, sometimes his mind ran on unsanctioned paths, imagining what would have happened if it had not been a near miss.  
>Alone in his bed, he fantasized of the taste of her lips, of the heat of her body against his, of her hands holding him close and of darker, dirtier things, things that left him yearning and made him feel so low that worms wouldn't want to acknowledge him.<br>She must have noticed that something was amiss, that much filth can't leave no marks on a person, because she had drastically reduced the casual touching he had learned to appreciate and any form of physical nearness with him.  
>If he couldn't rein himself in, it would not be long before she banished him completely from her presence and this was something he couldn't abide.<br>He needed her, needed her love and care to survive.  
>He, that had made an art of living isolated, of being distant, needed her so badly that he thought he couldn't live without her comforting presence. Wasn't it exquisitely ironic?<br>Truly, the masters of Kandrakar had meted out to him the perfect punishment.  
>Surely Mother would be looking down on him with her usual disgust and a smug smile, now.<p>

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><p><strong>I hope the formatting is better, this time...<strong>

**Next chapter, next weekend, will contain, violence, death and attempted suicide and the rating will definitely go up to M.**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except the OCs. Elyon's surrogate mother and natural mother have been arbitrarily renamed because I couldn't remember their actual names.**

**Angsty filler chapter, introducing a side-plot. Could be entitled: "Meanwhile, in Heatherfield". This is set around the timeline of chapter 3 and, as you can clearly evince from the story, the Guardians have been aged to age-of-consent in this verse.  
><strong>

**Warnings: mentions of violence, suicide and alcohol abuse.  
><strong>

**Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.**

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><p>Even if they had been assigned the task of keeping watch over Cedric, Taranee had the impression that, after the first couple of weeks, no one took it very seriously anymore. She had gone on holiday with her family for three weeks and, when she came back her colleagues candidly admitted that they had not checked on him almost at all.<br>The guardian sighed and walked briskly to "Ye Olde Book Shop". He might have picked up his stuff and gone who-knows-where and then where would it land them all? In trouble, that's where.

The front of the shop was closed and dusty and letters were cluttered just beyond the threshold. No one had collected them for weeks, it seemed. The windows of the upper stories, where snakeboy lived were dark and the whole place looked abandoned. Taranee cursed under her breath and employed a bit of her powers to force the door, then slipped in and carefully closed it behind her. The last thing she wanted was for the police to catch her during what would look like attempted burglary, she wanted to go to university and you couldn't get a scholarship with a criminal record. Not to speak of what her mother would do if she ended up in trouble with the police, she thought with a shiver.

Inside the bookshop it was dark and dusty, reinforcing the impression of abandonment. Taranee crept to the stairs in the back, which led to the upper floors and Cedric's personal quarters, trying to be as silent as possible. Luck was on her side and the wooden stairs did not creak and when she got to the landing, the door was unlocked. Taranee opened it slowly and carefully, but despite her best efforts, the hinges squeaked dreadfully. She cringed and ducked, half-expecting to be blasted by an energy bolt, only then remembering that Cedric had been stripped of most of his power and wouldn't be able to harm her.

A sad and slurred male voice came from the room beyond the door. "There is no money here, but if you want to kill me, be my guest."  
>Taranee shook her head, quite shocked, then entered the room. It was sparsely furnished, dusty and dark, so that she had to summon some fire to be able to see properly. There was a cupboard, a table, cluttered with bottles and old cartons of takeaway food, and a couch, but no sign of the occupier. Taranee circled around the couch and finally saw him. He was curled on the couch in an almost impossibly tight ball, his clothes were creased and he reeked of sweat and alcohol, but the most impressive thing was that his long hair had been sheared off in a sort of irregular and choppy crewcut.<p>

"Either kill me or leave me be, stranger. I have no desire to be disturbed." he said, without even moving his gaze from the spot on the wall he was staring at. His voice was a bit slurred and between that and the fact that when he was annoyed he hissed his "s", it was slightly hard to understand him.  
>"Cedric, it's me, Taranee, the Fire Guardian." she said gently, coming closer to him and regretting it due to the stench.<br>Cedric finally shifted his gaze from the wall and she saw that he had been crying. That alone shocked her more than everything else combined. "What do you want from me, Guardian? - he asked angrily – Is my punishment not enough for you to come torment me?"  
>"I- I just came to check that you were alright… - she stammered – What happened to you?" she asked softly.<br>"What happened to me? What happened to me? And you dare ask it?" he yelled, uncurling from the couch and trying to stand up but failing and sliding to his knees on the floor, where he promptly started sobbing.  
>"You should have killed us, - he said tearfully – it would have been more merciful…"<br>"Why… Why do you say so? – she asked, shocked – You helped Phobos rule in tyranny, you oppressed the people. The mages in Khandrakar were very lenient with you, actually. Your powers will come back, eventually, if you behave, and you will be able to go home." she retorted.

Cedric made a sound low in his throat that could have been laughter.  
>"Do you really think so, Guardian? You know nothing. – he spat, turning to look directly at her, lavender eyes burning feverishly – Do you know why I joined the Prince? I was thirteen when my powers manifested the first time. – he explained – My family was poor and uneducated, we were farmers. When he saw me do magic, my father took up his sickle and tried to kill me, sliced my head open. – he stated calmly, pointing out at a thin but long scar over his right ear, which usually was hidden by his hair – The rest of the village promptly joined in the fun. – he added drily – I managed to escape, but I knew that there was nowhere to go. My only hope of survival was to hand myself over to the guards and be dragged to court to be severed, if such a thing can be called hope. Certain death against probable death, which one would you pick, Guardian? – he asked angrily - I fled as fast as I could, but I knew I would not make it, they were closing in on me and I was only a child, I was tired and I was bleeding and finally they caught up with me. They started hitting me and it hurt, it hurt so much, - he added in a thin, lost voice, his gaze glazing over - but then the Prince came and made them stop and took me, just a dirty, cursed commoner under his protection, he made me his squire. He saved my life, Guardian, and from that day on I was his, heart and soul." he concluded.<p>

Taranee felt sick at the stomach. She would have never imagined that someone's parents could do something so horrible to their children. "Why did they do that to you?" she asked softly, kneeling next to him.  
>"You really know nothing at all, Guardian. – he replied, shaking his head, tears leaking from his eyes – On Metamoor it is believed that male magic-users are cursed, that they will turn to evil and destroy everything. It is a religious thing, a superstition, but because of this we are hunted and killed. Because of this, my Prince was made to suffer by his own mother, his father was driven to suicide and everything went to Hell." he added, curling up again.<br>"H-how so?" Taranee asked. If this was true and not one of snakeboy's famed lies, the Guardians had a lot to explain.  
>"Prince Phobos was eleven when he manifested, he was much more powerful than me, and his mother punched a hole in his aura. - he replied with a shiver. – Do you understand what it means? It is like having an ever-bleeding wound in one's soul, Guardian, it hurts. All of this to prevent him from using his powers, as they would ever leak out from the wound.".<br>"You're lying!" she replied reflexively, unable to believe that a mother would do something like that to her son.  
>"I am not, Guardian, else why would he have to drain the power from the land? The Queen thought it was more merciful than severing him for good, as tradition demanded. His father, instead, was not spared. He was severed and killed himself in two months. He was a great knight, loyal to the Crown, he had done nothing wrong, except being cursed." he replied in a tired voice.<p>

Taranee shook her head, feeling increasingly sicker. "This is horrible." she breathed. Severing was something done to irredeemable criminals, it was a brutal process that burned out a part of a person's soul, preventing them from using magic, a procedure that killed straightaway a lot of the people who underwent it and made the rest go crazy and suicidal, and Cedric was telling her that Phobos' mother had considered doing that to her eleven-year-old son and done it to her lover and that a thirteen-year-old Cedric had thought it would be his only hope of surviving the mob. What sort of crappy place was Metamoor? It made Afghanistan look like a cheerful place to raise children.  
>Cedric shrugged.<br>"Wait, but now Phobos got severed after all, at least that was what Caleb said!" Taranee exclaimed, suddenly remembering and feeling thousand times more horrified.

Cedric nodded. "He managed to spare me this fate saying that he had forced me to do what I did, he saved me again. I should have shared my Prince's fate…" he sobbed, hiding his face in his hands – You should have killed us, a clean death, a warrior's death, not the lingering agony he will have to face alone. I should be there to help him, now, not here. I should die beside him, as my duty demands…" he cried. "You stripped me of the last of my hope and honour, Guardians, do you think my punishment is harsh enough, now?" he added, turning towards her and yelling at the top of his voice.  
>"I-I am sorry, I didn't know…" she whispered sorrowfully, feeling teary as well.<br>"Now you know. – he hissed – Go now, leave me alone. It will not be long before I die, then you'll be free of the duty of keeping watch on me." he added, and resumed staring at the wall.  
>"You're doing what? – she asked angrily – Phobos saved your sorry hide and you're going to waste your life?"<br>"What do I have to live for, Guardian? I'm forever trapped in this world, with no purpose... – he said wistfully - My Lord was the centre of my existence, I lived for his command and now he is dying alone. He might already be dead now. What am I going to do with myself now, tell me?" he asked and started sobbing again.

"I… We will figure it out later, but surely the last order he gave you was to live and you're duty bound to obey, aren't you?" she asked, standing up.  
>Cedric nodded. "They put him back in prison with me, after…. – he started and his voice trailed, tears filling his eyes – I couldn't stop crying, but he tried to cheer me up, after what they had done to him he still tried to console me. He told me to go on, to find a place where I could be, when I would eventually be free. That's why I've not slit my wrists yet, but I cannot live like this, Guardian, I can't." he shook his head, sobbing again.<br>"I had always thought I would die saving him, that I would repay what he had done for me, not the reverse. I failed him so much…" he added with a wry smile.  
>"I'm sure you did what you could, Cedric, do not be too hard on yourself." Taranee tried to console him, putting a hand on his thin shoulder. She could feel bones under the thin fabric of his shirt. How long had it been since he last had a decent meal, she asked herself. Too long probably, and too long since he had a shower, she added, wrinkling her nose.<br>"You'll fail him much more if you let yourself die after he commanded you to live. – she added – Come on, get up. I'll draw you a bath and we'll get you sorted out. Come on. He wouldn't want to see you like that." she entreated, holding a hand out to him.  
>Cedric wiped the tears from his face and looked up at her with soft wonder. "Why are you trying to help me? I'm your enemy." he asked.<br>Taranee smiled. "You were my enemy. Now you just need help." she replied.

Cedric shook his head wistfully but still took her hand, trying to hoist himself up and swaying dangerously. Taranee ignored the smell of unwashed male and alcohol and sneaked an arm around his wait to keep him upright.  
>"How long since you ate anything?" she asked.<br>"I cannot remember." he answered shamefully.  
>Taranee shook her head, exasperated. "Where is the bathroom? Get cleaned and I'll sort out some food for you." she ordered.<br>"The door in front of you." he answered and let himself be dragged to the bathroom.  
>Once inside, she let go of him and he promptly slid to the floor again, leaning his head against the wall and breathing deeply, eyes closed.<br>"Is everything alright?" Taranee asked, worried. If he couldn't stand, there was no way he could have a shower and she wasn't risking leaving him in the bath alone, before he did anything stupid.  
>"My head spins." he answered. Taranee cursed.<br>"Do you think you'll be able to bathe on your own?" she asked, hoping that he would. She didn't want to see him naked.  
>Cedric blushed. "Take the shower off the hook, I'll sit in the bath and wash myself." he replied.<br>Taranee nodded and did as she was told. "Leave the dirty clothes on the floor, I'll get you fresh ones, if you want." she proposed.  
>Cedric acquiesced, maybe too tired to argue. "My room is on the left." he instructed.<br>Taranee nodded again. "I'll leave you to bathe, yell if there is anything you need."  
>Cedric nodded. "Thank you, Guardian." he whispered.<br>Taranee smiled. "See you in a few!" she said and got out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She waited behind the closed door for a while and soon she heard some soft curses in a strange, hissy language, then the sound of running water. Satisfied that he was complying, she set out to her next task, entering Cedric's room. It was quite sparsely furnished as well, with an armoire, a chest of drawers and a bed, not a very lived-in room. She quickly located fresh clothes, neatly folded in the chest of drawers or hung in the armoire. Why did he want to look as a young teacher, she would never know, but all his human clothes were in that style. She picked up some underwear, socks, a white shirt, a bluish sweater and a pair of blue slacks and knocked on the bathroom's door. "I'm opening just a bit, to leave the clothes on the floor – she announced, cracking the door open and sliding an arm in, eyes closed – Do you need anything else?" she asked.  
>"No, thanks, I'm alright." Cedric replied, turning the water off.<p>

She closed the door again and went back to the living room, throwing the windows open to air it. It needed a thorough cleaning, which would have to wait, but she made short work of the food cartons and the empty booze bottles, stashing them into a pair of plastic bags. She would bring them downstairs later, she told herself. Now it looked more like a room and less like a den, she thought approvingly, surveying her work.  
>"You cleaned everything, you shouldn't have." Cedric said from the threshold of the bathroom. After a good bath and in fresh clothes, he looked a bit more like himself, or at least like the image she had of him, except for the hacked hair (a clear sign of self-destructive tendencies as her psychologist father would say), the red-rimmed, puffy eyes and the way his posh clothes hung from his frame.<br>Taranee shrugged. "No probs, really. Now, do you have any food here?" she asked.  
>Cedric looked to the ground in shame. "I do not think so. I couldn't be bothered to buy food." he replied. "But whisky and vodka you bought aplenty…" Taranee thought, sighing.<br>"OK, let's go to a restaurant, then I'll help you do some shopping, alright?" she proposed.  
>Cedric blushed very red. "You don't need to, I will manage from here onwards." he replied.<br>"Alright, then let go of the doorframe and walk towards here without holding on to anything." she ordered. Cedric hesitated, grinding his teeth in frustration.  
>"Ha, I knew it! – she exclaimed – You can barely stand on your own, Cedric, you need help."<br>Cedric hung his head in shame again. "I know, it is just so humiliating…" he said.  
>"Do not worry, we'll get a taxi to a restaurant and I'm sure you'll feel better once you put some food back in you." she reassured him, smiling gently.<p>

He smiled back weakly and let himself be helped down the stairs, but even that effort left him breathless and weak. He'd been seriously starving himself, Taranee realized, and helped him sit at the foot of the stairs. She rummaged through the contents of her bag until she found a sugar bag she had stolen from the cafeteria and handed it over to him. "It should make you feel a bit better." she said, relieved when he took it and poured its contents into his mouth.  
>She took up her mobile and dialed the taxi, impatient for a reply.<br>"Hello, Heaterfield Taxi Company, how may I help you?" a female and overly cheerful voice drawled.  
>"Good morning, I need a taxi for two at Ye Olde Book Shop in Parkway Drive, Heatherfield." Tranee replied, matter-of-factly.<br>"Let me just check… - the taxi lady said – It should be there in five minutes." she added after a few seconds.  
>"Perfect, thank you very much. Have a nice day!" she said and cut the call.<br>"We should get going. How are you feeling?" she asked Cedric.  
>Cedric shook his head with a wry smile. "I'll survive." he replied curtly and heaved himself up. Taranee promptly shored him up and together they shambled to the door. Thankfully he was not that heavy, for being so tall. They cleared the door just in time for the taxi to arrive.<br>Taranee helped him to the back seat and went back to close the door, then scooted him beside him.  
>"Where to, miss?" the taxi driver asked, with a worried look.<br>"The nearest Ask, sir. The Italian Restaurant." she added as an explanation and the taxi driver nodded and drove on.  
>"I hope you like Italian food." she whispered to Cedric, who had closed his eyes again.<br>"Perfect." he replied in an even lower whisper.  
>The driver drove fast and blessedly quiet and Taranee paid him and helped Cedric out and then into the restaurant.<p>

The waiters looked askance to them, Cedric must have looked like a junkie in need of a fix, but they attended them nonetheless. "I know you're probably not hungry, - she whispered to him over the table – you've been eating so little that your stomach has started shrinking, but you need to start eating solid food again, OK? Get something nice and not too elaborate, like pasta, and take it easy." she suggested.  
>Cedric nodded and when the waiter came to take their orders he did his best to sound normal and asked for a plate of fusilli with tomato sauce. Taranee ordered a salad and hoped it came quickly as he was starting to droop on the chair.<br>Fortunately, this was one of those restaurants where the customer was attended to in the shortest possible time in order to get out and leave space for more customers. Their food arrived in minutes and Taranee started tucking into her salad. She was not hungry, but she was awfully nervous and at least the mechanical act of shoveling food into her mouth gave her something to do.  
>Cedric pushed his food in the plate for a while, then took a small forkful and chewed it carefully.<br>"It is very nice." he said afterwards with a ghastly smile.  
>Taranee smiled and patted his hand encouragingly. "Do not worry, take your time." she said. Her father told some ugly stories about traumatised people and eating disorders and she knew she shouldn't force him. If the waiters wanted them to be quick, they could go get themselves hanged for all that she cared.<p>

It took a while, but in the end Cedric declared that he couldn't possibly eat anything anymore and pushed his plate away. He had barely eaten half of the pasta, but Taranee took it as an encouraging sign. "Feeling better, now?" she asked, putting her cutlery across her plate.  
>Cedric nodded. "A bit." he said weakly.<br>"Do you want anything else? – she asked – A coffee? Ice cream?".  
>"I'd love to, but I think it is better I don't." he replied somewhat wistfully.<br>Taranee patted his hand again and asked the waiter for the bill. "We'll go get some ice cream another day." she proposed and he smiled again.  
>Taranee gave a quick look to the bill and paid, knowing that he didn't even have a wallet on himself, then helped him off the table and to the street. He felt a bit steadier when she supported him, but not nearly enough to be able to go to the supermarket with her. What was she supposed to do now? She bit her lip, deep in thought then an idea flashed into her mind.<br>"Is everything alright?" Cedric asked, slightly worried.  
>"Yes, sure thing, hail that cab please." she ordered and he raised a shaky arm to wave a taxi. "Where to, boys and girls?" the taxi driver asked, as soon as he stopped in front of them. Taranee gave him his home address and shoved Cedric in.<br>"Where are we going, now?" he asked, a bit uncertain.  
>"My place. – she replied and he stared at her wide-eyed and panicky – Don't worry, it's alright, I'll just get my laptop and we'll go to your place. We're going to have the grocery delivered, since you're still so weak." she explained.<br>"What about your parents?" he asked, still worried.  
>"With luck, they won't be in, otherwise, we'll improvise. – she replied decidedly – It's gonna be fine, I promise."<p>

Cedric nodded and soon they stopped in front of her house. Taranee paid the cabbie again (this was going to get expensive, she thought, but what was she supposed to do?) and helped him to the front door. It took a bit of rummaging in her bag before she found the keys, but when she escorted him in, it looked like no one else was home. Taranee sighed in relief and helped him sit on the couch. "Wait for me here. – she instructed – I'll go upstairs, get my laptop and we'll be off again in no time."  
>Cedric nodded. "I will never be able to repay you, Taranee." he replied wistfully.<br>"Oh, cut the medieval crap, Cedric. It's alright, You'd do this for someone as well, maybe not for me but, y'know…" she trailed.  
>"Taranee! Who are you talking to?" yelled a male voice from upstairs.<br>Both she and Cedric froze. "Crap, my father's in." she whispered. There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs and then her father Lionel appeared on the threshold of the living room.  
>"Who is this gentleman, Taranee?" he asked, crossing his arms on his chest<br>She blushed and stood up from where she was kneeling next to the couch. "Da, I didn't know you were home! – she exclaimed, trying to hide her guilt – This is my friend Cedric Hoffman, Cedric, this is my dad, Lionel Cook." she performed the introductions with a forced smile and while Cedric tried to back her by raising somewhat unsteadily from the couch and offering to shake hands with her father, Lionel didn't fall for it. How could he? He worked with problematic people all the time, he would surely spot that something was not right with Cedric, she should have thought about it.  
>"What is he doing here, Taranee?" he asked severely.<br>Taranee bit her lip again and shot a reassuring look towards Cedric. "Can we talk a bit in private, Da?" she asked. Her father grumbled and lead the way towards the kitchen.  
>"Be right back!" she called out to Cedric and followed him.<p>

"So, I've never heard of this Cedric before, but he is close to you enough that you bring him home? And what happened to him? Is he a drug user?" her father asked, standing against the kitchen counter. Taranee flopped on a chair.  
>"He is not a very close friend, he was more a fried on Elyon, you know, the girl from my school that moved out some months ago. – she started explaining, hoping to be convincing – His best friend has had an accident a couple of weeks ago, fell into a coma or something like that, and he has gotten depressed. He has no one else to help him and his last few weeks have been rough. I just want to help him." she concluded.<br>Her father seemed somewhat mollified. "What were you planning to do?" he asked.  
>"He hasn't eaten in a while, so I got him to a restaurant and I was planning to help him get his groceries online, he's hopeless with technology, but I needed my laptop, so I came here to get it." she explained.<br>"And you say he's not a close friend… - he commented – This is very altruistic of you."  
>Taranee blushed. "I couldn't let him go on like that." she replied, unassumingly.<br>"So, how are you planning to get him back home? He seems barely able to stand." her father asked again.  
>"I was going to get a cab, that's how we got here." she replied.<br>"Nonsense, - he father replied – I'm getting back to the practice in a few minutes, I can give you two a lift." he proposed.  
>"That would be great! Thank you, Da!" she replied enthusiastically, hugging him.<br>Her father smiled and ruffled her hair. "What are you planning to do with him, afterwards?" he asked again, tilting his head towards the living room.  
>Taranee chewed on her lip some more. "He'll need help for a few more days, until he has managed to sort himself out. – she admitted – I'll help him with the grocery and cook him dinner, then check on him tomorrow morning, to begin with. – she said – Do you think this is a sensible plan?" she asked. Her father knew how to deal with these situations and would be able to give her precious insight.<br>"Sensible enough. – he admitted – You should get him to see someone, you know, to help him mend."  
>"I will try." she replied, knowing that it would be nigh on impossible. He wouldn't want it and it was not like he could really talk about his problems, they would take him for a total nutter. "I cannot make any promises, Da, he is stubborn and proud." she added apologetically.<br>Her father sighed. "They all are, but he's lucky enough to have a friend like you. – he commented, making her blush – Now go get your laptop, it is time." he ordered.  
>Taranee hugged him again and zoomed upstairs, retrieving her laptop and some spare cash and rushing back to the living room in record time.<p>

Cedric looked tired, but tried to put on a brave face. "Is everything alright? - he asked – Is your father very angry?" he asked, looking worried.  
>"No, he was a bit worried but it's all sorted out, honest. – she replied, patting his hand reassuringly – He's giving us a lift to your place."<br>Cedric bit his lip and looked away. "Your father is a nice person." he commented in a strained voice, and Taranee couldn't help thinking that he was thinking of his own father, who was anything but.  
>Taranee smiled weakly and rubbed circles into his back, trying to soothe him, then her father arrived.<br>"Alright, let's get you back home, gentleman." Lionel Cook said and Taranee helped Cedric off the couch and into the car. Cedric was trying not to lean as much on her, but she didn't mind and she didn't think her father would either.  
>They drove in silence, while the radio played some soothing piece of classic music. Cedric only spoke a few times to give her father directions to the shop, then the car stopped in front of it.<br>"You are the owner of this shop?" her father asked, flabbergasted.  
>Cedric nodded. "Yes, sir. Why do you ask?" he replied and Taranee tensed.<br>"I came here once, to get a present for my wife, but the shopkeeper was…" he started, then his voice trailed. Taranee cringed. Yes, Cedric was almost unrecognizable in this sorry state.  
>"No, never mind… - Lionel continued – It is a very nice bookshop, keep the good work going, eh?" he said, shaking hands with Cedric a bit more enthusiastically than required.<br>Cedric nodded. "I will try, Mr Cook. Thank you for everything." he replied politely and slid out of the car on his own, holding himself upright by placing his hands on the hood.  
>"See you after dinner, Da. You'll explain everything to Ma, won't you?" she said, kissing him on the cheek.<br>"I will, but send her a text as well." he replied – Take care of yourself… And of him, I guess." he said, smiling.  
>"Will do. See ya!" she said, sliding out of the car and helping Cedric to the front door. The car revved up and drove away while they opened the door and got in.<br>"Alright! – Taranee declared cheerfully – Do you feel up to climbing up the stairs?" she asked Cedric.  
>He sighed. "Do I have any choice? – he asked and Taranee shook his head – I would have guessed so. – he added with a sort of smile – Let's do it then. I so wish I could slither…" he concluded wistfully.<br>"Would it be easier?" Taranee asked unconvinced. She didn't think so, but she had never seen a snake climb any stairs, so…  
>"No, but I wouldn't get as dizzy." he replied with a hint of laughter and Taranee couldn't help but smile.<br>"Shall we go?" she asked.  
>"By all means…" he replied with a sort of mock-bow and together they set out up the stairs.<p>

The following morning, Taranee showed up at the bookshop quite early, taking a lift on her father's car. Her mother had taken the news of her trying to help a suicidal fried well enough that she had not forbidden her to go there again, which was a start.  
>The previous evening had gone as well as expected. She had set her laptop up, ordered the groceries online, showing Cedric how to do it, just in case, and helped him put them away in their proper places in the kitchen, then cooked him some rice and a piece of chicken breast and made sure he ate as much as he could manage. When she left, he looked a bit better than the morning, but she knew it would take a few days for him to get back to functioning normally and a lot more to begin healing for real.<br>The day went on slowly. She made sure he had breakfast, then kept him company during the morning and got to clean the house a bit, despite his protestations that she shouldn't, then reheated something for lunch and ate with him. In the afternoon, she forced him to have a nap, while she took her book out of her bag and studied a bit. Next year was her last in high school, then she hoped to enter Medicine at the local university, therefore she was cramming as much biology and chemistry as she could in preparation. Cedric woke up mid-afternoon and shuffled to the living room to keep her company, reading in companionable silence, then they had dinner together, like good friends, and she left for home after cleaning up. She didn't mind the extra work, not if it meant that he would go back to being healthy.

It took Cedric three days of that life to be able to stay up all day, and at least another three for him to be able to venture outside on foot. They went to take an ice-cream, as promised, and he looked marginally more cheerful. She knew he still cried when she went home and sometimes even as she was still with him, but it looked like the worst was over.  
>The following day was a Monday and Taranee knocked at Cedric's front door at 9.<br>She imagined that she would have to open the door on her own and meet him upstairs, as usual, so she was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door. He was dressed in slacks and a shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and he looked like he had rolled in the dust.  
>"Good morning, Taranee. – he greeted her, letting her in – I was trying to clean up the shop." he added, as an explanation for the dust.<br>"Are you re-opening it?" she asked excitedly, clapping her hands together.  
>Cedric nodded. "I am trying to get on with life, as you told me to. – he replied, staring off in the distance – You were right, he would have wanted me to keep going, maybe to live for both, who knows…" he added, a tear rolling down his cheek.<br>"Cedric…" she whispered, worried and pitying.  
>"Don't worry, I'm fine, I'm fine. – he declared – It's just… You know, he was not an easy person to have around, he was an harsh master and probably he took me for granted and used me most of the time, - he added, smiling through his tears – but he made me as I am now and, when worse came to worse, he went out of his way to spare me. He was the closest thing to a friend I have ever had… before you." he added sorrowfully, then dried his tears with the back of a dusty hand, leaving a dark mark on his cheek. "I am doing this for both of you." he declared, and his tears came forth again.<br>"I can help you, if you want, Cedric, you do not need to do this alone." she said.  
>"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I must sound like an idiot, – he said – but I came here and set up this shop because Phobos ordered me. I couldn't even read before he took me to court with him, but he said that it wouldn't do to have an illiterate squire and gave me over to his tutors and I learnt as fast as I could to be worthy of his attention. I just wanted him to be proud of me, to keep me safe… - he confessed – He was just a few years older than me, maybe he would have liked someone to keep him safe as well, but there was no one for him."<br>Taranee took the books out of his hands and hugged him tight. "It is alright, Cedric. Do not cry. – she tried to reassure him – You were there for him. You did what you could, you were loyal, his right-hand person and you stuck with him to the end. He knew it, I bet he knew it." she said, feeling tears prick her eyes as well. It would have been much easier if the lot of them had been complete monsters as the Oracle had said and not two people who had suffered so much.  
>At length, he relaxed and stopped sobbing and she let go of him, wiping tears from her eyes.<br>"Come on, we can do this together." she said, forcing a smile on her lips and taking up a dusting cloth.  
>"What would I do without you, Taranee?" he asked and hugged her again, then let go of her and took up the books again.<br>"Let's get this place clean and sparkling, ready for customers. I will make it, I promise." he declared.

* * *

><p><strong>So...<br>How do you like angsty Cedric?  
>This might evolve into CerdicTaranee, not the most canonic ship, but one that seems oddly appropriate to me. Who votes for bookworm-ship?**

**Please will be used for heating. Summer in the UK is crap.  
><strong>


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